


Galactic CHOPPED!

by Natasja



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Chopped in Space, Don’t copy to another site, Gen, Originally Posted on Tumblr, SWModdy, Tumblr Prompt, seriously, the Jedi would DOMINATE here..., this is your fault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 14:15:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18942652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natasja/pseuds/Natasja
Summary: From a prompt about Jedi vs Senators on Chopped, and Jedi being unexpectedly awesome at it:Host: Teams, your basket includes: green milk from a weird semi-mythical creature that lives in the ass end of space, some weird blue booze from the Outlander that is 160 proof, standard issue ration bars from the Grand Army of the Republic, and those bugs Anakin ate one time in the old Clone Wars cartoon.Team Senate, Collectively: [appalled]Ki-Adi-Mundi, Team Jedi: I have SO many ideas. Was this supposed to be challenging?Obi-Wan, Team Jedi: Anakin and I ate these exact things for lunch. Like, today. On purpose.





	Galactic CHOPPED!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [forcearama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/forcearama/gifts).



Participating in Charity-themed things was always a good look for a Senator, particularly when the populace they (theoretically) represented was making grumbling sounds about ‘elitism’ and being ‘out of touch’. 

Aa’vin’yah, of the Veneer System, had watched aides whip up a quick six-course snack for important meetings, and xir favourite restaurant was one where each table had a personal chef prepare the meal while you watched. How hard could a celebrity episode of a cooking show be?

And they got to show up those stuffy Jedi in the process? Getting a few other Senators to join in would be simplicity itself. Where did xhe sign up?

* * *

Padawan Tallisibeth Enwadung-esterhazy knew that pride was unbecoming of a Jedi. So was Vindictiveness, for that matter. And Gloating.

Somehow, she didn’t care right now. From the grin her new master was wearing, Master Windrider probably wouldn’t scold her for it. On the holoscreen, a trio of senators were talking to the press about how much money it would raise for the war effort, and to a slightly lesser degree, how wonderful a job they would do of winning.

Master Windrider’s iridecent wings quivered in a way that, on any other being, would indicate that they were about to double over laughing, as she tapped on her datapad. “Tell me, Scout, do you think that any one of our soon-to-be challengers have cooked a day in their lives.”

Tallisibeth, who preferred her nickname, beamed, sidling up to the humanoid woman with the blue-green, insect-like wings that had first caught Scout’s eye. “Does that mean that we’re signing up to beat them into the ground?”

Vaneria Windrider had still been in disguise from a long-term mission, and asked Scout to be her padawan less than a minute after encountering her in the hanger bay. Of course, then Master Windu had thrown a cloak over the beaded mesh that passed for her clothing and bustled her off to change before Scout could stop staring, much less reply. Master Windrider had promptly found Scout, this time dressed in proper Jedi robes, and asked again less than an hour later. She ran a silver-sheened hand over Scout’s red hair and tugged affectionately on her padawan braid. “Of course we are. Even better, we’re going to make sure that charity money goes to relief efforts, war orphans and a clone retirement fund, rather than lining senate pockets.”

It was an effort not to skip as they made their way to the sign-up board, which already had a cluster of Jedi around in, including, much to Scout’s delight, Masters Kenobi and Mundi, and Knight Skywalker. Oh, this was going to be fun…

* * *

Aa’vin’yah and the two other Senators who had joined her team (they may have to make the charity episode into a short series, after the number of people who had signed up) were preparing for the challenge by watching previous episodes of _Galactic Chopped._ Sure, that wasn’t the same as actually knowing how to cook anything fancy, but they had all served their time as aides in charge of making simple refreshments and ordering more complicated ones. How hard could it be?

Senator Amidala had laughed very hard when she heard them say as such, and Senator Organa had muttered something about not wanting to be embarrassed on intergalactic television. A few other Senators known to worked closely with Jedi had also refused to participate. Well, their loss.

Jedi were a minimalistic Order, going for the simple things in life. What would they know about cooking to impress?

* * *

“Seriously, where does everyone get the idea that we’re bad at cooking? Have they seen the kind of missions we regularly get stuck on?”

Master Quinlan Vos passed a glass of Corilian Brandy to Master Kenobi, who laughed. “We don’t cook things that require a dozen expensive ingredients. I doubt the idea of cobbling something edible from a few things that were never designed to go into the same pot ever occurred to them.”

Scout brought out a small tray of freshly baked grain rolls, placing it on the table. Her master was actually a very good cook, not the least because she preferred the quiet of their quarters to the noise of the cafeteria, and the smell of a simple but tasty stew filled their quarters. Scout viewed ingredient prep as a kind of moving meditation; the simple, rhythmic motions of cut, peel and slice, and it suited her much better than sitting still on a mat. A roll lifted off the tray, floating toward the two Masters on the couch, and a cushion flew from the empty chair, smacking Master Vos in the face. The roll dropped, as Master Windrider cackled from the kitchen and Scout attempted to stifle her giggles. Her midichlorian count might be barely above the cut-off for training, but little things were becoming easier under her less-conventional Master’s teaching.  
As Master Windrider said, not everyone learned in the same way, and it was all a matter of finding what worked best for the student. Scout narrowed her eyes at the cutlery draw, knives, forks and spoons floating slowly but steadily over to the table. 

Master Windrider emerged, carrying bowls and floating a large tureen of soup behind her. “How do they think we cater for thousands of people, from nearly every species in the galaxy, and all the dietary requirements that implies?”

Master Kenobi laughed again, “Vaneria, my dear, that would require them to actually possess logic and common sense.”

The door to their quarters opened, admitting Master’s Windu and Billiba, Scout’s Grandmaster and Padawan-Aunt, as Master Windrider called her. Master Billiba’s new Padawan, Caleb, followed closely behind them. Master Windu fixed Master Kenobi with a patient look. “Try not to say that where any of the Senate can hear you. They’re stubborn enough when it comes to funding, I’d prefer not to make it worse.”

Scout giggled; Master Windu was a lot less terrifying when he came to dinner every week and you got to see him being tag-teamed by his former padawans, and returning their teasing with almost parental affection. Depa smiled warmly at her. “Your fine control is improving tremendously, Talli. Well done.”

Caleb bounced in place, as excitable as ever. “Are you nervous about going on the show? With everyone watching you?”

Scout shrugged, the last spoon settling into place. “It can’t be that much worse than the exhibitions we had to do as Initiates, and I’ve cooked some pretty weird things without the benefit of a fancy kitchen. How hard can it be?”

* * *

Only years of professionalism stopped the Commentator and Hosts of Galactic Chopped from squee-ing like over-excited children. Jedi! On their show! Two of them Council Masters! Facing off against a bunch of Senators who were way too confident for their opinions of their own cooking skill to be based in reality.

Focus. Calm. They needed to act like this was any other show.

Even when it totally wasn’t.

“Welcome to Galactic Chopped!” He paused while the studio crowd screamed and applauded. “Tonight, we have a special event! Senators and Jedi face off to raise money for charities, and see which of them will take home the title!”

The audience erupted again, and the Hosts took the time to study the night’s competitors. The Senators were shooting smug looks at the Jedi, who wore their usual inscrutable masks, although the young Padawans standing off to the side looked far too amused. Six assistants walked in, carrying identical baskets. The Commentator reminded himself, again, to focus and keep his voice steady. “In your baskets, you will find six ingredients. You must use all of them in some way, to prepare a side dish, a main, and a dessert.”

A host stepped up, opening the basket and lifting out the ingredients one by one. “Teams, your basket includes: green milk from Aach-Cho, some kind of blue alcohol from the Outlander that is marked as 160 proof, standard issue ration bars from the Grand Army of the Republic, Muja Fruit, Nerf steaks and Tattooine desert hoppers. Your time starts… NOW!”

The Senators stood still, looking collectively appalled. The female Jedi blinked, wings twitching briefly, before shooting the Host a quizzical look. “Is there some kind of mistake? I thought that this was supposed to be hard?”

She briskly moved to the food area, a motion that managed to break the trance the Senators were in. Master Windrider was forced to flutter into the air to avoid their mad scramble, and gracefully alighted back at her station.

The Nerf Steak was quickly diced, simmering with the blue alcohol in a frying pan. Several barely-seared pieces were lifted out and put in a small dish to the side. Another pan was used to melt sugar, a bit of alcohol and some of the green milk, along with several spices. The muja fruit was diced and added to several other green things in a salad, a pinch of crushed ration bars sprinkled over the top. A second muja fruit was cut into larger chunks and put aside to go with the rest of the green milk and several vegetables, sautéing with the rest of the nerf steak. When the sugar mix began to crackle, Master Windrider poured it out into a silicon tray of small moulds, dropping a Tattooine hopper into each one. 

Beside her, Master Kenobi was deep-frying the hoppers in a crumb made from crushed ration bars and a drizzle of green milk, Muja fruit and berries stewing in the alcohol. Master Mundi had his nerf steaks on a grill, and was staring in frustration at the rest. “I have so many possible dishes to make, I can’t pick just one!”

Master Kenobi had a truly magnificent side-eye. The Commentator didn’t fail to notice that he had a fairly magnificent everything else, too. “Then do a tapas variant. Honestly, Ki-Adi, pull yourself together!”

The Senators seemed to have the opposite problem, attested to by one dangerously smoking pan and a blender that was making alarming noises as the Senators argued among each other, looking increasingly desperate as they tried to figure out what to do with a bunch of ingredients that were never meant to work together. 

Master Windrider paused in the middle of thickening a simple broth with ration bar crumbs, watching the Senators before exchanging concerned looks with Master Kenobi. “Padawans, if anything explodes over there, shield the audience first.”

The torgruta and the human girl bowed slightly. “Yes, Master.”

Nothing exploded, but one of the pans caught fire. Master Windrider sent the Senators a pitying look, and started plating up her food.

* * *

There was a slight break before the food was served to the judges, and the contestants were being interviewed about their dishes. Master Windrider was first. “Salads are easy, and Nerf stew goes with everything. The hoppers-in-toffee-amber is a recipe I picked up when I was busting a slavers ring on the Outer Rim. Almost makes them edible.”

“Was there anything you found particularly challenging?”

“One of the judges is a Zabrak, and they’re carnivores. Adapting the dishes so that he could eat them was more work than I was expecting, but not insurmountable. The ration bars almost tripped me up, but some of the clones have come up with all sorts of ways to make them edible.”

Master Kenobi came next, “Supplies don’t always arrive on schedule, so those of us on the front lines often have to supplement our stores by foraging. It certainly doesn’t make for gourmet food, but you learn to be creative. Anakin has always had a fondness for hoppers; apparently they’re an excellent source of protein.”

Master Mundi waved an expressive hand. “My master used to assign me to kitchen rotation as a punishment, when I was a Padawan myself. With the number of different races we cater to on a daily basis, I learned a lot of … unique dishes.”

The Senators had, somehow, cobbled together something that technically fulfilled the requirements. “Defies description” would probably be the nicest thing the Commentator could come up with, but it looked edible. Probably.

The Padawans, meanwhile, were busily packing the unused food into containers and storing them in boxes. An assistant hurried over to them, “What are you doing?”

The Human Padawan looked up in surprise, pausing in writing down an address. “At the temple, unused food is donated to shelters. The refugee ones in particular are having issues with food shortages. You can’t keep cooked leftovers for other contestants to re-use, so we thought we could deliver them on the way home. Asokha, was the domestic violence shelter the 79th or 89th level?”  
The Togruta looked up from her own packing. “79th, the 89th is the War Orphan one. Weren’t you there just a few days ago, Scout?”  
“Scout” nodded. “And a half-dozen others. Grandmaster was talking about the possibility of fostering some of them out to the Agricorps, or Programs with some of the other corps, if the Council can organise it.”

The Assistant wavered for a moment. She didn’t know exactly what was normally done with the leftover food, but she was pretty sure that it wasn’t donated. On the other hand, the conversation had caught the attention of several audience members, three of whom were not-so-discreetly filming. Telling the Padawans to stop what they were doing, in a _charity_ episode, would be a PR nightmare. Dealing with decisions like this was above her pay grade, so the assistant moved her head in a way that could be vaguely construed as a nod, and found something else to occupy herself that would conveniently get a good position to see the judging.

Besides, if she was nice to the Padawans, she might get an autograph or two out of it.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm tempted to do a second chapter of the Interviews. Thoughts?


End file.
